The Reversed Cross
by valkrys
Summary: Sam and Dean are itching for a hunt when they come across a town in which they find more evil than they might be able to handle. Beware of future plots, occult procedures, blood, violance,
1. Chapter 1

Discl. I don't own anything related to Supernatural, Jensen Ackles or Jared Padalecki.

Beta: Thank you to the fabulous loracj2 for the support!

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**The Reversed Cross**

**Prologue**

Stepping out of the grey, unimposing building, Sarah felt thankful for the fresh breeze of air that greeted her. Exhaling deeply, she took a few moments to compose herself, waiting for the wind to cool down her flushed face.

A glance at her watch told her that it was past dinner time. Her husband would've already eaten, if he was home. The thought of completely skipping dinner for today was quickly reconsidered after an angry growl from her stomach.

She started to walk to her car while pondering the closest diner where she could grab a bite to eat. Clearing her throat, which was still hoarse from crying, she reached for the remote and unlocked the car. Opening the door, she settled behind the wheel and dropped her bag onto the floor. Sarah remained motionless for a second, and took another deep breath of air while she mentally rebuilt the wall she had been tearing down over the past two hours.

This was the real world. There was no place for weakness.

Turning the key in the ignition, Sarah started her Corolla and backed it out of the parking space, carefully getting in line behind the other cars. She drove down the main street of the small town before turning left at the circle, following the small street up to the nearest  
Mc Donald's.

Ignoring the guilt which settled into her system upon seeing the huge M, she silently convinced herself that she had earned herself some junk food. Once a week wasn't that bad.

After parking her car, she killed the engine and got out. She started to stroll to the entrance, then paused when she caught sight of a shiny, black car entering the parking lot. It wasn't often that such a brilliantly preserved muscle car could be seen on the streets, and for a minute she admired the well polished silver parts, sparkling in the last sunbeams of the day.

The short walk to the entrance door took only a few seconds and Sarah braced herself for the greeting she was sure to receive inside.

The noise penetrated her ears when she pushed the door open. The air was thick and filled with smoke, sweat and grease. Avoiding any deep breaths she bravely stepped forward, gracefully avoiding close human contact with the other customers and lining up behind the waiting crowd.

Her mind quickly wandered back to the therapy session of earlier, and as usual, she remembered the acquired protection tactics, successfully blocking out everything around her.

As she studied the menu board, she pondered the calorie counts of the specials for the day.

"Indecisive? Wanna see my menu?"

The soothing, flirting voice caught her off guard. Not completely grasping the ghost of a bad pick up line, her whole body tensed, the hot breath close to her ear sending her into a spiral of memories.

Instantly, one single idea dominated her entire being.

Out!

Flashes of pain, shame and deep anxiety burned in her mind, stealing her breath. While her brain frantically searched for a way out, pictures of horror raced in her mind's eye.

Spinning around, Sarah blindly headed for the exit, her senses crashing mercilessly, leaving her vulnerable and weak.

She didn't get far.

Sarah could feel the panic take over her mind, whimpering helplessly as she bumped into someone, the human contact sending shivers down her body. The unexpected feeling of two strong arms around her, protecting her from falling, did nothing to improve her situation.

Quickly sliding into hyperventilation, she felt the nausea building deep in her gut. Bile rushed up her throat, threatening to choke her. Hot tears were burning in her eyes and a whooshing sound in her ears blended out any other noise.

Realising that nothing she did was going to prevent her from this public meltdown, she finally gave up struggling, relaxed, and let the memories take over. With a sigh, she allowed the flashbacks of past events to fully absorb her mind while the present faded from her awareness completely.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"You really weren't kidding."

"Mc Donald's it is, Sammy. Deal with it" Dean smirked behind the wheel.

"It's Sam," the younger boy sourly replied.

Of course, Sam had known that his chances of avoiding the junk food giant were close to none. Dean loved and collected the Happy Meal toys and wouldn't miss an opportunity to stop when the huge M appeared on the horizon.

"Don't you ever get tired of junk food?"

Trying to be clever, Sam opted for a change of tactics. He did learn a few tricks during pre-law, or even the psychology course he took, but so far they had all failed to work on his brother.

Dean turned his head and simply raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face.

"Do you ever get tired of books?"

"That's not the same!"

Sam's exasperation was real as he shook his head in frustration before gritting his teeth and turning his attention to the city that was flying past through the windows of the car.

Sometimes the hours they spent together in the Impala became overwhelming, stretching into what seemed like eternity. Nothing supernatural for two weeks and they were both itching for a hunt.

Sam recalled that he read somewhere that killings between siblings usually were downgraded to manslaughter, and that in 92 of the cases, it occurred in the heat of the moment.

Dean knew all his triggers and sometimes he hated him for it.

Sam remembered that he had been damn close to actually losing it more than once himself, and not only after the "baldy incident", as Dean kept calling it over the years.

The guilt hit him painfully when pictures of the Asylum events appeared in his mind's eye. Admittedly, that had been too close for his liking.

"Hey dude, see that chick over there? She just checked out my baby!"

Dean's voice resounded with excitement, his eyes shining with a special glint Sam had come to despise.

Sam rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed grunt.

"Great. Now my last bit of appetite is gone."

His big brother didn't even acknowledge the sarcasm in Sam's voice, but parked the car wordlessly and got out, carefully closing the creaking door behind him.

Sighing, Sam followed him, uncomfortably unfolding his tall frame before yawning and stretching his stiff body parts, grateful to be able to move his legs after the 4 hour ride.

Shoulder to shoulder, but in silence, the two hunters walked over to the entrance. Reaching for the door, Sam was startled when Dean suddenly jumped, ungracefully bumping into him, and two pre-teens came running outside, nearly knocking him over in their play of tag.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, but his brother just grinned and shrugged his shoulders innocently.

The inside of the restaurant was packed with people, mostly families with screaming kids. Sam wrinkled his nose at the smell of grease, smoke and sweat in the air. He definitely wouldn't eat tonight.

Dean seemed oblivious to the noise and stench in the air, instead staring ahead with a confident grin on his face. When Sam followed his glance, he realized why.

The tall boy sighed and once again rolled his eyes, but remained quiet. He knew better than to pick a fight with his brother about a girl – again. He hadn't liked the ending the last time when he had woken up in a sleazy motel, his hands tied to the bedpost with Dean standing over him, pouring ice over his crotch.

Dean had labelled it "preservation support".

Staying behind his brother, Sam observed the scene in front of him. When the girl froze at Dean's words before spinning around on her heels, Sam hoped that Dean would finally get what he deserved.

How long had he waited for a girl to take action and tell Dean off for his lousy pick up lines?

Only when he caught the fear screaming from her face, her eyes darting around the room, looking for a way to escape like a hunted animal, he knew that something was wrong.

Still, she nearly sent them both flying to the ground when she suddenly moved forward and rushed into him with full force. Instinctively he reached out and wrapped his arms around her slender body to steady her.

Sam was immediately unsettled by the ragged, panic like breathing she developed upon his touch, but when he wanted to let go of her, a flash raced through his mind and the familiar headache flared up when he caught fragments of scenes he didn't recognise.

Brilliant. As if death visions weren't already cruel enough, he could now also telepathically connect to people? And of course it couldn't be normal people, but damaged people, evidently.

He shivered and gulped, forcing himself to pay attention to the memories she involuntarily shared with him. He had learned the hard way that there was always reason behind his visions.

Sweat started building on his forehead and he felt sick to his stomach at the images he witnessed. It probably only lasted a few seconds, but to him, it felt like hours.

When it finally stopped, Sam wavered and gulped, fighting to regain his posture.

"Dean!" he hissed when the girl went limp in his arms.

"What? I didn't do anything!" the older hunter replied obliviously.

Sam forced his eyes open to send his brother a glare.

"Let's get her out of here," he rasped.

Dean only shrugged and followed Sam, who was carrying the strange, unconscious girl in his arms. Thankfully, she could be considered a lightweight. Crossing the parking lot, Sam stopped in front of the Impala and waited for Dean to open the back door.

Carefully placing the girl on the backseat, Sam grabbed for the blanket they had stored under the driver seat and covered her with it, before retreating from the car, closing the door as gently as possible.

"If she pukes in the car you're so cleaning it up!" came Dean's feisty comment when Sam turned to face him.

"Fuck, Dean, just… shut up."

Tiredly rubbing his eyes, Sam felt drained. Exhausted from the emotions she had transferred and the horror he had seen through her eyes.

Leaning heavily against the car, he sighed and massaged his temples, hoping for the persistent headache to subside.

"You ok?"

Suddenly, any traces of anger or annoyance disappeared from Dean's voice, and warmth and concern replaced them.

"No, I'm not, Dean."

Looking at his older brother, Sam noticed the confused look and the narrowed eyes giving him a thorough once over.

"Another vision?"

Just nodding slightly, Sam closed his eyes and tried to remember anything relevant in-between the horror scenes, anything that might provide a clue as to what exactly he had witnessed. When he re-opened his eyelids, he met Dean's confused glance, his brother's hazel green eyes flickering with worry and doubt.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I just… I didn't expect anything like this."

"What did you see, Sam?"

Turning around, deliberately avoiding further eye contact with Dean, Sam took a quick glance inside the car and noticed that the girl was still out cold, though the nervous twitching of her closed eyes indicated that her mind was still fully alert, and his heart filled with sympathy for her. He wouldn't wish his worst enemy what she had gone through.

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice had once again changed from worried to soothing, but was now underlined with a pressing urge to mask the confusion Sam feel radiating from his brother's entire being.

"Let's find a motel, alright? We gotta talk to her when she comes to."

"Sam, what the hell…"

"Please, Dean. Just… trust me on this one."

"Fine!"

This time the anger was not disguised. Dean stomped around the car, ripped the door open, slid behind the wheel and started the car, all in one fluid motion.

Trying not to agitate his brother any further, Sam hurried to get inside as well, seconds before Dean pressed down the accelerator and sped out of the parking lot with screeching tires.

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Feedback is love. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Huge thank yous to my fabulous beta loracj2! Also thank you to tarpelion, planB and sammygirl1963 for the reviews!

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**Part 2**

Sarah woke with a start. Blinking into the blinding light, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and scanned the strange room for anything familiar, but failed.

Another panic attack threatened to take over; when she didn't remember where she was and how she got here.

Had they found her again? Had she not suffered enough already?

Involuntarily, tears started streaming down her face at the prospect of her own personal hell starting up again.

Still, she remained motionless, the idea of escape drilled out of her one too many times. Instead, painful memories and fear pushed her back into total resignation.

There was no reluctance, only a brief pang of regret and a sick acceptance of a destiny she had always known she couldn't escape. That was, after all, the line she had heard most often.

She gasped slightly when she heard voices approaching the room. Out of habit and fear of punishment, she forced herself to regain control over her body and immediately slipped back into a routine that had been her life for over 6 months.

A life that she had hoped to be over.

Pushing away the blanket which covered her body, she scurried to her feet and hurried around the bed. Seconds before the door was unlocked, she let herself fall to her knees, pressed her forehead hard into the filthy carpet and waited for the unavoidable to begin.

There was only one thought in her mind.

One dominating strategy that kept the small flame of hope and peace alive.

This time she wouldn't be weak. This time she would overcome her fear and religious beliefs and end her life.

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There was an icy silence between the two brothers when Dean parked the Impala in front of the least sleazy looking motel in town.

It had only been a two minute drive, but before Dean had even turned off the engine, Sam fled the car to avoid choking on the palpable tension between them.

Sam knew that Dean was offended and angry, not used to being locked out of his thoughts, his visions. But Sam had yet to find a way to explain to his brother that he had not witnessed someone's death, but rather memories and images of situations involving the living.

While Dean went over to the front desk to rent them a room, Sam silently watched the girl on the backseat through the car window. She had gasped once or twice during the ride, but was still unconscious, as far as he could tell.

Her face was pale, her blue veins standing in stark contrast to her white skin. Her brown, long hair was made into two braids, which gave her appearance a much younger touch.

Sam still couldn't make sense of the pictures he had seen, the procedures of horror she had been involved with, or worse, had been part of.

Sam walked a few feet, his thoughts still deeply buried in the vision he had experienced. They had checked out the town before they got here, but had not found any traces of supernatural happenings and definitely nothing that would match up with her memories.

"Room 11."

Dean's voice cut through the cold night air, pulling Sam out of his head.

Accepting silently that Dean still refused to be a part of this, as long as he had no clue what _this_ was, Sam opened the car and carefully pulled the girl out, carrying her inside himself. He then tenderly placed her on the one bed closer to the bathroom, in case she was to be sick.

Covering her with a blanket, he gently brushed a few strands of loose hair out of her face. As a reflex, he pulled back his fingers when he touched her ice cold skin.

"I need a drink," Dean announced from the door, leaving the motel room without any further comment.

Sam wordlessly followed him outside, where he heavily placed himself on the steps leading up to their room.

"I'll stay, watch her."

"Figured as much."

Dean's voice was tight and resonating with annoyance.

"Need anything?"

"Just get enough to drink. I have a feeling that we will need it. We might need more band-aids, too."

Dean sent him a last, stern glance, before turning around and walking off; his brain already listing the things they had run out of and needed restocking.

When he returned 20 minutes later with a bag of groceries, Sam was still crunched down on the stairs but watched him approaching with tired eyes.

Dean carelessly tossed his purchases at Sam, who easily caught the brown bag with a hint of a smile. Slowly getting up, Sam leaned against the wooden railing and eyed Dean carefully, who was nursing a bottle of beer.

When he didn't say anything, Dean decided to give it another try.

"Ready to talk now?"

Sam opted for the straight-forward tactics.

"It was no death vision, Dean."

"Okay."

Dean took a few moments to ponder this revelation, his eyes darkening slightly.

"What was it, then?"

"It… uhm… seems as if she transmitted some of her memories, images of… uh… events."

"What kind of events?"

"That's the thing, Dean. It looked like our kinda deal; supernatural, but in a sick, twisted way."

"Dammit, drama queen, quit talking in riddles. What _exactly_ are you saying?"

"I'm not entirely sure what I saw, except that nobody died. We'll have to ask her."

Sam saw Dean's face hardening. His jaw tightened as he swallowed down the rage which was glimmering in his eyes with another gulp of beer.

Sighing heavily, Sam's mind raced. This was going to be harder than he had thought.

He wasn't entirely sure why he couldn't tell Dean what he had seen. But somehow he sensed that she _had_ to share the information, the cruelty of it all.

After seeing all sorts of supernatural beings, murders and killings of all kinds, bodies torn to shreds, family members injured and close to death, he still couldn't grasp the idea of humans torturing other humans, especially females. He had been taught that women were to be protected at all costs.

In order to avoid any further interrogation by his brother; Sam turned and closed the distance to the motel entrance. He reached for the key, unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Following closely behind, Dean cursed under his breath when he walked straight into Sam, as his little brother stopped dead in his tracks, thus efficiently blocking the way into their room.

Shoving Sam's shoulder out of the way, he squeezed past his brother's tall frame while sending him a glare.

"I swear, man, you are walking on thin ice. If…"

Turning around, Dean's words caught in his throat, his eyes widening at the sight of the girl cowering on the floor.

"What the hell?"

Seeing as Sam was still frozen on the spot, Dean walked over to the slim figure on the carpet and hunched down beside her.

"Lady, are you ok?"

"Yes, Master."

She never lifted her head but talked directly into the floor, her voice speaking volumes of defeat and subservience.

Turning his head, Dean sent Sam a confused glance, his eyes narrowing at the weirdness of this situation.

Finally, Sam seemed to pull himself out of his trace-like state and moved forward, slowly closing the door behind him. Placing the bag gently on the small table in the corner, Dean realised that Sam was moving extra slow as not to scare the girl.

Getting up, Dean walked over to the bed closer to the door and let himself fall onto the mattress, watching expectantly how his brother was to handle this mess.

He sensed Sam's uneasiness and a quick wave of malicious joy washed over him.

Dean hated being left in the dark, especially when it involved Sam's abilities, but his younger brother had pled the fifth and successfully talked him into waiting until the girl woke up. In the end, he knew Sam could get by with anything. He just couldn't ignore the soft spot in his heart that always took over whenever Sammy looked at him with those trademark puppy dog eyes.

Focusing his attention on the other two people in the room, Dean watched Sam approaching the girl carefully, his hands hanging loosely down his body to indicate that he meant no harm.

He needn't have bothered, though. She never once looked up or moved. All they could see was her back rising and falling from the air she inhaled.

"Hey… there…I'm Sam. What's your name?"

Sam's soothing, soft voice broke the heavy silence which filled the room.

The girl startled slightly, but her head did not come up when she answered into the carpet.

"My name is Sarah, Master."

"Hi, Sarah. I'm sorry if we frightened you. Please, get up from the floor."

"Yes, Master."

Standing up slowly, she was careful to avoid eye contact. Instead she let her head hang low, her eyes barely open.

"Sarah, why would you think I'm your Master?"

Dean could see her hands shaking, her head jerking slightly as she pondered the question she obviously didn't know an answer to, which only added to her nervousness.

"We're not going to hurt you, Sarah" he spoke up, not able to hide his queasiness at her submissive behavior.

The new voice scared Sarah and she dropped back to her knees, once again burying her head in the carpet.

Dean sighed and gave Sam an apologizing shrug when his brother sent him a disapproving glare.

"Sarah, look at me, please."

Sam waited patiently for the time it took the girl to muster up the courage to lift her head and make eye contact.

It lasted only a few seconds, but Sam seemed to be pleased with what he had achieved.

"Do you know where you are? Or remember where we met?"

Sarah gently shook her head.

"Okay, Sarah. I want you to listen carefully."

Stopping, Sam waited until he was sure that she was not only listening, but actually hearing him.

"We ran into you at Mc Donald's this afternoon. You seemed scared and went into shock when we bumped into each other. When you touched me, I… I think I… **saw** why you were panicking. After you passed out, we brought you here because we think we might be able to help you. I want you to understand that we mean no harm. Okay?"

Again, Sam waited patiently for a reaction from her, watching her intently so that he wouldn't miss any signals.

"You saw… my thoughts?"

Her voice was shaking and still thick with fear, but Dean was sure that he could also detect traces of… hope?

Still, he could not fully agree with Sam's decision of revealing his abilities, hinting that he was psychic. Nonetheless, he had to admit that he was impressed by Sam's psychological skills, the way he handled the situation, working through the 15 point plan as taught in his fancy college book "Psychology 101".

Of course, if Dean had not taken a sneak peak at Sam's college remains, he would've never noticed the pattern. But when things had started to get tense between them, when Sam's nightmares had intensified and he had developed the habit of locking himself up in his own personal world of guilt, Dean had decided to take measures.

Seeing as there was no such book as "Understanding Sam Winchester – a handbook for Dummies", he went to look for any clues as to how to help his brother and found some answers in this psychology book.

The short intake of air, audible from the silent girl, led his thoughts back to the motel room.

Despite Sam's progress, getting her to open up and even look at them, Dean still didn't know how to deal with the situation they were stuck in.

Now he wished he had suppressed the urge to go to Mickey D's, as it was only to piss off Sam, anyway.

She had seemed to be a decent girl, her taste in cars excellent, her look reasonably hot and he hadn't wasted a second to make a move. But now? She had triggered Sam's spidey senses and thus he didn't trust her for a second.

"Yes, I think I saw your thoughts, or rather snippets," Sam answered Sarah's question, effectively bringing Dean's mind back to the conversation.

Suddenly Sarah jumped to her feet and moved quickly closer to Sam, while excitedly pointing a finger at him.

"You!"

Dean bounced off the bed and had his gun pulled and aimed at her head within seconds, ready to blow her away the moment she became a threat to his little brother.

Sarah, though, didn't blink, didn't even see Dean, maybe not even the gun pointed at her. Instead, her whole attention was focused on Sam, who stood his grounds silently.

The gun was cold and hard in Dean's hands, the bare metal under his fingers calming down his frayed nerves, evoking a feeling of safety. As long as he was armed and in control of the situation, things were going to be ok.

Simultaneously raising a hand and motioning Dean to take it easy, Sam gave Sarah an encouraging smile and asked "Yes?"

She visibly relaxed and pulled her lips into a small smile, her words spoken softly and slowly when she answered.

"You are the chosen one."

And Dean's blood turned to ice.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I am sorry for the delay, I was on holiday in London and also attending the Asylum Convention. Let me just say, Jensen is awesome...

Thanks to my lovely beta loracj for her hard work and thank you to ephiny63, poaetpainter, nessi, roxy071288, sissa610, bb1128, samantha-dean, heather03nmg, tarpelion and friendly for the reviews as well as meilinglovesshaoran for the reminder, you guys keep me going.

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**Part 3**

The forest was quiet on this dark, moonless night. The birds had long ago abandoned the unholy site, taking their singing, chirping and whistling with them.

Mania was sitting on the reversed pentagram she often used to meditate, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. Any random spectator would have seen and described a picture of peace.

Deeply inhaling, she savored the feeling of stealing the life force and energy of the plants surrounding her, sucking in their essences. The dying trees and bushes were moving in the cool breeze, wavering in the wind, hopeless creatures of silent resistance.

A satisfied smile appeared on Mania's face when her blood cycle sped up and she could feel the power consuming her, helping her to see clearly.

She loved coming out here between the regular black masses, feeding on nature. Mania understood only too well that she needed to store all the energy she found, now that she couldn't feed on her favorite toy anymore. At least not in the near future. Not until He stepped into her life.

Mania had seen and sensed Him for the first time during one of the most intensive masses. A shiver ran through her body when she recalled the vision. He was more powerful than any individual she had ever used, close to almighty in her eyes, His abilities allowing His aura to gloat, radiating strength and power.

Sarah would bring him to her. Mania was sure of that. Although Sarah, her favorite plaything, and The Chosen One had never met, it was a given that they would find each other, as they were connected, linked by a similar past and destiny.

It had not been easy to release Sarah from her net and re-introduce her to society. They had to make it happen quietly without anyone noticing. Frank had proven to be worthy and had handled the case marvelously.

It helped that they had a police officer among them. Mania had chosen wisely, carefully selecting the people she wanted and needed to take part. Bill had been able to operate without notice; evading direct contact with Sarah, but still effectively leading them away from Mania and destroying any evidence and incriminating documents.

The air was turning chilly and Mania's mind returned to the clearing. After inhaling deeply and opening her eyes, she gracefully pushed herself to a stand and brushed away the dirt from her clothes. Satisfied, she turned around and bowed to the cross dominating the shrine in front of her. With her palms pressed firmly together, she spoke a quick prayer to her guardian.

The bat slightly gracing her shoulder when it flew past was a well noted sign, and she gratefully nodded to the cross once more.

In the dim light of dusk, Mania started collecting her séance utilities, storing them in her sacred chest. It was time to go back to the world of the living and plan her future steps. So much still had to be prepared and organized for His entrance into her circle.

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Sam's voice resonated with a husky yet slightly insecure tone throughout the otherwise silent motel room.

"Chosen for what, Sarah?"

Dean frowned, his arm trembling slightly when he swallowed, attempting to process what was happening.

This was bad. Really, really bad. Fucked, actually. Despite himself, Dean's first thought was to get Sam out of here. Run. Their last encounter with an offspring of The Yellow Eyed Demon, not too long ago, had been too fucking close. His shoulder still hurt when he slept on his left side.

Turning his head he locked eyes with Sam, and for a moment he could detect a flicker of panic in the hazel gaze of his little brother.

It vanished before Dean was entirely sure it had even been there, and was replaced by determination and a plea for help.

'Let's get out of here' – _'I have to stay'_ – 'Sam, please, I can't…' - _'I need you'_

Their silent conversation was interrupted when Sarah spoke up.

"Mania needs you to finish her metamorphosis."

Unfortunately for Dean, that name did ring a bell, and in an instant it became clear that they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. They had stumbled into the next chapter of their road trip of doom. Which didn't mean he had to like it. And this girl was seriously getting on his nerves.

Exasperation spoke from Dean's voice when he lowered his weapon and placed himself on the bed, the gun still gripped tightly in his hand.

"Listen, lady. I'm fucking tired of your half answers. Why don't you place your sweet little ass on that mattress over there and tell us what the hell is going on here!?"

Sarah nodded and stepped closer to the opposite bed.

"You know, smartass, two years ago I would've given you shit for your attitude," Sarah retorted, raising one eyebrow and finishing with a grin "but I learned to avoid handsome _devils_."

Dean smirked and more imagined than actually saw Sam rolling his eyes. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. Cocking his head to the right, he motioned his brother to join him on the bed, effectively placing himself in between Sam and Sarah.

"I used to have a perfectly normal life," Sarah began. "I grew up with both my parents, no siblings, attended school, went through college and married my college sweetheart when I was 21. But everything changed around 18 months ago. Out of the blue, I started having nightmares – the kind where I saw myself doing horrible things to other people. And there was always this creature, not quite human, telling me what to do, requesting, then forcing me to hurt faceless randoms."

Dean felt Sam stiffen beside him at her words, gripping the bed sheets with his large hands. The older hunter knew what was coming before Sam opened his mouth to speak. Still he winced at the tightness in the voice of his little brother.

"Did this creature… did it have yellow eyes?"

Sarah threw him a surprised glance, her eyes wide, mirroring sorrow and heaviness. Opening up to them, telling them how happy her life used to be, seemed to release the raw emotions Sarah usually kept hidden and only released during her therapy sessions.

"No, it didn't have yellow eyes."

The relief Sam felt rolled off him in waves, crashing into the walls and bouncing back as little cries of joy. Tossing his little brother a brief glance, Dean involuntarily swallowed at the open display of relaxation in his eyes.

"Anyway, shortly after the nightmares started, I was… kidnapped from home."

Sarah stopped, her eyes darkening and her hands clenching into fists at the memories. She continued with a neutral voice and calm voice, a coping mechanism that banned the emotions from her words.

"For the next 6 months after that, I was held in a dark, small room which seemed in the middle of nowhere. If I had to guess, I'd say it was part of some kind of hunting lodge. There were stone walls and floors but a wooden ceiling."

Getting up from the bed she was sitting on, Sarah started pacing the room, her body requiring some sort of action to process the horrific memories that she was sharing out loud.

"I never once saw the face of any of the kidnappers, but I soon figured out that it was some kind of… satanic cult. They wore black capes, covering their faces, all the time, but I could tell them apart when I learned about the symbols that were burned into the flesh on the inside of their forearms. Their coats bore the same symbols. Only one of them spoke directly to me. He made me call him Master …. I had to obey every order that was thrown at me…."

Fiddling with her fingers, Sarah's voice dropped slightly when she continued.

"I can't really put my finger on it, but something was…. odd. Sure, the whole thing was far from being a camping adventure, but they knew stuff about me, about my dreams. I'm allergic to carrots and the entire time I was there they brought me all kinds of vegetables for meals, but never carrots or anything with carrots inside. Also, there was something familiar about one of them, but he or she kept their distance from me."

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look. Since it appeared that people who knew Sarah were involved, the case followed the usual pattern of a regular kidnapping.

"I soon found out that the coven was built around a black witch who called herself Mania. She… she was the one…. reciting the black masses… performing the… rituals… "

Sarah's voice broke and she stopped, taking a deep breath.

Turning away from them, the trembling girl slowly opened her hooded jacket before pulling it off completely. The brothers watched in stunned silence as she revealed her battered and scarred arms and back. Deep cuts were running over her skin, the smoothness of youth long gone, replaced by symbols and writings stamped onto her body for life.

Sam was the expert when it came to paintings, boring Dean for hours with his lectures about different styles of drawing, colors, brushes, expressions. But when it came to interpreting scars, wounds and past injuries, Dean was far ahead of his brother. He had been, after all, the one who had taken care of all his father's and baby brother's injuries, making sure that nobody in school noticed their battered bodies after a hunt and call social services on them. The scars that Sarah reluctantly revealed were nasty and frayed. He could tell by just a glance that her wounds hadn't been tended to.

Sam tossed his brother a quick glance, horror swimming in his hazel gaze, the disbelief apparent. When his eyes returned to look at Sarah, she had turned around to face them, her eyes wide open and misty, silently screaming at the boys to give her some sort of explanation, a reason why _she_ had been chosen to endure this torture.

Pushing himself up, Sam slowly moved closer to her, careful not to invade her personal space, but close enough to show her some sort of reaction.

"It's all right, Sarah. We won't let this happen again."

Her hopeful eyes leveled on his, speaking volumes of pain and shame. A lonely tear escaped her deep pools as she forced herself to take a step towards Sam.

"She fed off me, used me to establish a connection to her guardian, Hecate, the queen of all witches. But after some time…. it became clearer and clearer that it wouldn't work the way she… needed it to. The rituals got… fiercer, more… brutal when she tried to… to take all my energy."

Hesitantly reaching out, Sarah gently touched Sam's forearm and squeezed it slightly. Closing her eyes she tilted her head to the side, took a deep breath and nodded knowingly.

"That's when I felt you."

"Whoa, sister, stop right there. What do you mean, you 'felt' him?!"

Dean's voice was giving away how agitated he was, if only to mask his insecurity. He hated that he felt like an intruder to the situation, like he was once again left out, only a spectator to the game he was supposed to be playing and winning for the sake of his brother's life.

Sarah opened her eyes and turned to Dean, warily eying his gun before looking directly into his hard, green gaze. Her hand, however, never left Sam's arm.

"The goddess introduced Mania to Sam's energy. His spirit appear in a vision."

Shifting her eyes back to Sam, her words toppled over when her voice gained urgency.

"The witch, Mania, is mainly the _vessel_. She is preparing her body to re-introduce Hecate, the goddess of the underworld, to this world. And with your power, she will obtain enough energy to complete the metamorphosis."

Dean watched Sam closely, attempting to sense what his brother was thinking and feeling. Sam's face was blank and his eyes expressionless as he processed the words of the girl.

"Sammy?"

Dean called his brother's name softly. He was loathe to wake Sam from his trance and lead him back to reality, where they were in a shitty motel room, and where they had just found out that he was the target of a black witch and her evil plans.

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Dude, that's so my line."

Shifting his head towards his brother, Sam sent him a hint of a grin, his gaze calm and balanced. _Don't worry, big brother_.

The glare he got back from Dean didn't need translation._ I have to. It's my job._

Softly shaking his head, Sam turned back to Sarah and gently placed his palm over her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll stop her."

"She will be expecting you."

"Yeah, probably. But we're not exactly amateurs in this game. Sarah, there is something I need to know."

"Yes?"

"Were there… only nightmares? Or did you find you could… see… stuff?"

"You mean, if anything I dreamt about came true?"

"Yeah."

"No. Never. I had the feeling it was more to torture me, drive me crazy…" Sarah stopped, glancing at Sam with uncertainty.

"I feel a _but_ coming…" Sam encouraged.

"I found that I… I can… kinda manipulate memory."

"Come again?"

Not reacting to Dean's question, she glanced down to her hand and reluctantly pulled it away. The coldness that swept into her system as the connection with Sam broke had her shivering. She fixed her gaze on the window, not able to look at either of the brothers.

"A few weeks after the nightmares started, I realized that I could mess with people's memory by touching them. I can make them forget events which happened at any point of their life. I've never tried, but maybe I could also delete their entire memory… It's scary black magic, I think, so I tried to suppress it. But then I also discovered that there is some white magic too, like I can amend memories."

"Amend memories?"

"Well, I can… provide people with memories they didn't experience, or dig up hidden memories, like supply an orphan with happy memories of the deceased parents. Or if once something painful happened in a person's life, I can take away the edge."

"And you never saw a creature or even a human with yellow eyes?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Ava didn't see it before you met her, either, remember?"

Dean rose from the bed and stepped closer, his mind set on business.

"We need to find out which one of your friends or relatives is part of this circle and helped with the kidnapping. Can you give us…."

He didn't get to finish his sentence when the door to their room was suddenly ripped open, announcing the entrance of two heavily armed police officers. Neither of the Winchesters had time to react before the two uniformed guys had aimed their guns at the brothers.

An icy silence followed, the tension rising to an unknown high.

"Evenin', fine officers of the law!" Dean finally spoke up, keeping his voice playful and light.

"Freeze, Winchester!"

Sam swallowed thickly at the mentioning of their name and cast a glare towards his brother, once again cursing Dean for the stupid idea to go hunting in jail upon knowing that they were wanted by the Feds.

"Jake, take Sam outside," the police man in charge ordered.

"What the hell," Dean muttered before deciding to play dumb and demanding, "would you mind telling me what the fuck you are arresting us for?"

"Capturing and holding against free will," the higher ranking officer answered, a smirk tugging on his lips.

Dean let his head drop, pulling himself together to keep from snorting. Looking up, he exchanged a quick look with Sam, his brother's brown eyes mirroring his own relief. At least the Feds had not yet made their appearance in Satan-town.

"Kidnapping? Of whom?"

"Sarah Harris."

"What!? Who the hell are you and what are you talking about?!" It was Sarah's turn to be baffled, her eyes narrowed and her voice unnaturally high.

Sam observed the scene with growing suspicion. A knot was forming in his stomach, the feeling in his gut telling him that something was very wrong here. Completely wrong.

How did the police know their names, but not their criminal record? How had they found them, anyway?

"Just stay back, Mrs. Harris, we'll handle this. Jake, take Sam outside. _Now_!"

Sarah paled; her hand flying to her mouth as nausea traveled up her throat.

Sam didn't have to look at Dean, it was as if he heard his brother's thoughts loudly screaming at him. _You take care of the other one outside, I'll handle this one._

His fingers knotted behind his head, Sam threw one last glance at Sarah and was slightly startled at the look in her eyes, her ghost like pallor. Reluctantly moving forward, he tried to analyze what emotion he had seen in the pool-like blue eyes. As he stepped outside, he watched Jake's movements with the pointed gun carefully out of the corner of his eyes. Relieved to see that there was no back-up waiting at the police car, Sam walked slowly down the steps, preparing himself to turn around and knock the gun out of Jake's hand.

Halfway down the stairs, it suddenly hit him. The expression in Sarah's eyes. Recognition.

Screeching tires caught his attention seconds before he could take action, and he silently watched the approaching van stop a few feet away from him. This was not good.

Distracted by the vehicle, Sam failed to notice the raised hand of Jake hovering over his head.

The gunshot rang through the cold evening air just seconds before Sam's world went black.

* * *

**A/N:** Due to a family loss I don't know yet when I will be able to continue, but I promise I will.


	4. Chapter 4

A huge thank you first to my fabulous beta **Loracj2**!

Also thank you to my reviewers Tarpelion, heather03nmg and ephiny63, thank you guys!!

* * *

**Part 4  
****  
**The sensation and the pain were all too familiar. He pictured irony screaming into his face the moment the bullet pierced through his skin.

_Great. Just fucking perfect._

The impact of the gunshot had thrown him against Sarah and saw them both stumbling towards the back wall. Fortunately, his body switched to soldier-mode like a well oiled machine. _Dad would be proud_. In one fluid motion he moved sideways, protectively in front of the girl, before he took a step forward and reached for the gun, yanking it out the stunned officer's hand. Just seconds later, another wave of pain washed through his system when the foot of his opponent connected with his guts, forcing him to bend over and gasp for air.

"Oh my God, Dean!"

Using the distraction caused by Sarah's outburst, Dean turned his shoulder towards the officer and leapt forward, rushing into him with full force, and effectively crashing the corpulent man's body into the door frame. Using the guy's momentarily dazed state, Dean placed his hand on the law man's forehead and knocked it hard into the wooden plate of the door.

Instantly, the officer's eyes turned heavenwards and he slid to the ground like 190 pounds of raw flesh.

Gasping for air, Dean rested his trembling body against the wall, stars and flashes dancing across his vision. Drawing in air hurt like a bitch and it felt as if tiny little needles pierced into his side every time he filled his lungs with desperately needed oxygen. Gritting his teeth, Dean pulled away from the happy, flower filled wallpaper and shot Sarah a glance through clouded eyes.

"Let's get Sam and get out of here," he rasped, making a shaky step forward.

Sarah quickly moved over to him in stunned silence, her arm shaking as she reached out and offered Dean her support. Together they stumbled to the door and out onto the patio, both expecting to meet Sam, who hopefully by now had knocked out the other cop. The couple was met by a deserted forecourt and a deafening silence.

"What the…."

Rapidly glancing around, Dean freed himself from Sarah's touch and moved along the wooden railing lining the patio, his breathing ragged and forced. Every gulp of air seemed to cause an explosion of pain in his lower body, and Dean noticed that he was dragging his left leg behind him. Bracing himself he pushed all pain aside and frantically searched the area for any sign of his brother. It was close to midnight, moonless and the lighting was sparse, but Dean could see well enough to realize that there was no police officer sprawled out on the dusty ground, no tall frame of a hunter crouched over an unconscious body. Absolutely no indication as to where the two men had vanished to.

"Fuckin' hell!"

Frustration finally got the better of him, and he pounded his clenched fist on the railing, the outburst resulting in a sharp pain lacing through his guts. The sudden tension caused him to bend over and gasp for air. He knew that the bullet had to come out. He attributed the fact that he was still standing, and not in shock, to the rush of adrenaline that came upon him when he didn't see Sam. Bile burned in his throat when the loneliness and panic about his brother going missing - again - sunk in. Swallowing thickly, he sagged against the wooden beam, silently considering what his next move would be. He wondered what was still possible.

_You better be alright, Sammy, you better be. _

"Dean?"

Dean slowly glanced up, locking tired eyes with Sarah. His only ally left.

"Yeah."

"You need to go to a hospital."

"Yeah. No," he sighed.

Dean wished he could just get up and walk over to her, be the hunter, the protector he was supposed to be. He wished he hadn't failed Sammy again. Everything would be alright if his brother was here with him.

"You're bleeding pretty badly, Dean."

Dean blinked slowly and realized that he had no idea what to do now. He was alone. Bobby was too far away to be here in time. The hospital was out of the question with his criminal record. Obviously, he didn't plan on spending the next few weeks on state holidays, wracking his brain to find an escape plan while he should be searching for his brother. The more he pondered his situation, the quicker he felt his head getting lighter, his mind swimming and his vision blurring. The blood thumping in his ears reminded him of the beach with Sam on a much needed break a few days ago. When he closed his eyes, he could even bring the scene to life, could feel the cool breeze on his face, the salt lingering in the air.

Dean didn't even register when his legs gave away and his body slid heavily onto the wooden floor.

* * *

Sam groaned deeply. 

Whatever he had been up to the previous night, it hadn't been a good idea. Screw that, it had been a _very_ _bad_ idea. His head was throbbing like he had downed all the alcohol in the state of Texas all by himself. Opening his eyes proved to be difficult. Instead, he gently moved his hand to his forehead, carefully shoving his messy hair out of his face, hoping his touch would somehow bring a cure to the pulsating migraine. He winced when his fingers touched a sore spot on his skull, dried blood still clinging to the wound where the skin had been broken.

Bar fight? He didn't think so. Except maybe if Dean had….

Dean!

The reminder of the gun filled his head when the memories came rushing back, and suddenly it wasn't difficult at all to force his eyes open. However, the second he did, he wished he had readied himself by shielding his eyes. The dim sunlight that oozed into the cold room increased the persistent headache to new levels. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and his brown eyes darted around the unfamiliar room in search of his brother.

The sight of a sparse chamber greeted him. Four stone walls with a small window and a ridiculously small looking door, a stone floor, similar to one you would find in an old cellar, and a wooden ceiling. Not yet feeling ready to just jump to his feet, Sam slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, fighting vertigo while inspecting the pallet he was lying on. A dirty mattress had carelessly been thrown onto a metal bed frame, like the one he had occupied at the Detention Center in Green River County mere weeks ago. There were no sheets, and from the look of it, the mattress had never seen a cover, as there were stains splattered all over, most of them fading from red to black and unmistakably sourcing from blood.

Sighing, he rubbed his temples, hoping to bring some kind of relief to his headache. With closed eyes, he evoked the face of his brother. Picturing him lying on a neat, clean bed, Sam imagined the graze on Dean's leg to be bandaged and, of course, he was already up and flirting with the petite nurse who was standing next to his bed. Settling his mind by positive thinking and true belief that Dean was all right, Sam could concentrate on finding a way out of this hole. He got up, bent down and pushed the bed frame slowly towards the wall with the window. The ugly sound of the metal feet scraping over the bare stone floor resulted in an explosion of pain in his head, halting him in his tracks to gasp for air.

Deciding that the bed was close enough, he climbed on top and stretched his tall figure toward the small opening in the wall. It was sealed with a dusty glass panel, and he scrubbed a hole through the soot on the pane, in hope of catching a glimpse that would help him figure out where he was. There was grass right outside. Further away, he spotted some kind of altar, decorated with various black magic symbols, the most imposing one a prominently displayed Christian cross, hanging upside down above a black table of worship, with the longer part pointing towards the sky. A pentagram had been etched into the ground before the altar and right now, a white lamb was grazing in the middle of it while securely tied to a nearby pole.

Sam shuddered when the fate of the sheep dawned on him. He swallowed and slowly slid back down onto the bed.

* * *

An irritating, chattering sound pulled him out of the deep blackness he had been engulfed in and he lay still for a few moments, his mind still blurry and his body still sore. It took him quite some time to realize that the chattering came from his own teeth hammering against each other, and the shaking couldn't be blamed on an earthquake (although he wouldn't give a flying fuck if there was one, hell he'd welcome it), but on his trembling body alone. All he wanted was the terrible cold which was gripping every cell of his body and freezing out his brain to subside. 

Where was Sam, anyway?

Forcing his eyes open, his gaze met the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. Not that any ceiling he had seen over the past few years had been familiar. It was amazing as to how different the same kind of shit-hole motels they stayed at could be designed. For which _Design_ was definitely the wrong word anyway.

Turning his head, he caught sight of a sleeping figure in a chair next to his bed, way too short and feminine to belong to his brother.

"Welcome back, Dean."

Startled, Dean ripped his head around and leaped upwards, bringing himself to a sitting position. The overwhelming pain racing through his left side had him choking and gasping for air while silver dots danced before his eyes.

"Easy, you shouldn't move just yet."

Fighting to see clearly, Dean finally locked eyes with the source of the voice, a woman in her early forties, standing at his feet with a gentle smile on her face.

"What…"

Desperately trying to recall what had happened, Dean closed his eyes and tortured his brain to find out how he had ended up here.

"They got Sam."

Having learned from his previous mistake, Dean kept his body still, but his eyes wide open, fear and panic swimming in his vision when the memories of last night came flooding back.

"Who the hell are you?" he growled.

"I'm Sarah's therapist. And I know that you're worried about Sam, you damn well should be, Mania is dangerous. But right now we gotta focus on getting you back on your feet. You don't happen to have any hunter friends in the area you could call? Like Bobby? We need all the help we can get."

Cursing his weakened state, Dean felt totally out of control. _Was she psychic, too?_

One thing he knew for sure, he was willing to trade his entire Metallica tape collection for a gun right now.

"Your gun's in the drawer next to you and you can keep your tapes, I'm not into classic rock."

This woman was seriously giving him the creeps. _Perfect, she was definitely psychic._

"Of course I'm psychic, honey. I'm a witch."

* * *

Hope you liked. Feedback is love. 


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